


Run-On Sentences

by genee



Category: Actor RPF, Bandom, Music RPF, Popslash
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-08-14
Updated: 2007-08-14
Packaged: 2017-10-13 11:23:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/136819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genee/pseuds/genee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My contributions to the multi-fandom slashy AU (run-on) sentence-a-thon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run-On Sentences

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eboniorchid](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=eboniorchid), [coolwhipdiva](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=coolwhipdiva), [turlough](https://archiveofourown.org/users/turlough/gifts), [azrielen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azrielen/gifts), [magdalyna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magdalyna/gifts).



for eboniorchid, jensen/chris: tattoo

Jensen's whole arm aches, thrum of the needle numbing his fingers, his wrist, Chris's back stretched out before him, almost done now, sweat curling the long strands of hair sticking to his neck, his shoulder, his voice low and a little rough when he murmurs, hey, okay? and Jensen nods, licks his lips and digs the thumb of his free hand into his palm until the muscle gives, Chris grinning up at him and trying to see over his own shoulder, bruise under his eye blue and yellow and his laugh pooling warm and heavy in Jensen's belly, every bit as sexy as the first time he walked in here, his dick hard and his knuckles bleeding, just-won prize money burning a hole his pocket.  
   
   
 

for coolwhipdiva, jc/jared: bull riders

JC presses the palm of his hand against his own taped up ribs and watches Jared ride, all long legs and leather and he's too damn tall for this but somehow he makes it look right, mean-ass black bull between his thighs and his back arched just right, open hand in the air and his hair all wild and for a crazy split second JC's sure Jared winks up at him in the stands, and then he's off the bull and whooping and the crowd's on their feet, Jared jumping up at the rail and waving his hat around, his smile enough to make JC's eyes light up, make his cheeks flush and his breath catch in his throat before it all comes out in a rush and he's whooping and hollering too, reaching out for Jared, happy for the chance to watch him shine.  
   
   
 

for turlough, lance/nick: space pirates

Nick was too thin again, all hipbones and ribs and pale sunless skin, and Lance was worried but there wasn't a thing he could do about it now that he wasn't already doing, cargo hold stacked high with dark wooden crates roped down and stashed behind the metal wall, behind the traders' booze he actually had papers for and was planning to offload at the market just as soon as they delivered these wood-crated wares and spun out planetside, and Nick would say he worried too much if Lance gave him half a chance, if he didn't cover Nick's easy smile with his own bitten lips, didn't lick into the hot inside if Nick's mouth, his hands wrapped into Nick's long dreads, smooth beads and rough coins here and there, Nick's favorite gun digging into his hip and Nick's fingers on his jaw, smoothing over the scars that still tingled when they got too far out, when they got too close, too, places with trackers Lance avoided when he could, people who didn't need to know as much as they thought they did, and that's why Lance couldn't give Nick the chance to say it, because Nick would smile and laugh and his cheeks would flush warm pink, and Lance would worry anyway because keeping them safe was what Lance did, it was his right, and there wasn't a goddamn chance in all the worlds he'd give it up without a fight.  
   
   
 

for azrielen, pete/bert: the (after) life of the party

Pete raised an eyebrow, cocked his hip, and across the crowded room Bert smirked at him, slow in shadows, his fingers twisted in the boy's pale hair and his wings stretched out behind him, black feathers shiny in the low light, and Pete scowled, willed his own wings to be still, creamy feathers tucked against his spine, edged with red and gold and newly stained right at the base, dark and inky and he could still smell the burn of it, of Bert's skin against his, Bert's mouth, Bert's hands on his ass hot and dirty, fingers wrapped around his cock, sifting through his feathers until Pete's whole body shook with the feel of it, the sounds they'd made together enough to make his dick hard even now, here, Bert's eyes on him, the pale boy discarded already, carried away by the tide, the party swirling around Pete and Bert like they weren't even there, and maybe they weren't, when it came to Bert, Pete knew he couldn't always tell.  
   
   
 

for magdalyna, pete/andy: environmentalists

Pete rubbed his eyes and blinked hard, ran his hand across his mouth, and still the tattooed boy on his doorstep kept talking, global warming and recycling and ten easy steps, it just makes sense, his voice soft and intense and his eyes all shiny bright, like he wanted to let Pete in on the best thing ever but he just wasn't sure yet, wasn't sure if Pete would actually appreciate it, and then he scratched distractedly at the edge of his tee, his skin milky where it wasn't inked, and Pete said, "Hey, you wanna come in? My roommate's vegan, there's food," and the kid nodded, said, "I'm Andy, man. Thanks. Most people close the door before I get half that far," and Pete grinned and licked his lips, said, "Yeah, assholes, right?" and walked Andy down the short hall, kitchen on the right, bedroom on the left, and thought, hmmm, decisions decisions.  
   
   
   
 

\-- End --


End file.
